


Take all the time you need

by TaurusDoodles



Series: Hetalia fankid short stories [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, F/M, Hetalia Countries Using Human Names, Miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:34:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24516991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaurusDoodles/pseuds/TaurusDoodles
Summary: A tragic event strikes Françoise. She falls into herself, not sure what to do. Arthur vows to help her through this no matter his personal standing. He will be there for her. Whatever she needs.
Relationships: England/Female France (Hetalia)
Series: Hetalia fankid short stories [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1781152
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	Take all the time you need

**Author's Note:**

> This deals with the topic of miscarriage. No explicite talk about it but it does mention murder. This is more so the after math of a miscarriage. Please do not read ahead if you do not feel comfortable with it. That is why it is rated T. Read at your own risk.

Arthur brushed Françoise's hair thoroughly with care. Her dirty blonde hair felt like silk to the touch. The long trail falling past her shoulders as if it were a sun kissed waterfall. She sat in an oversized Union Jack t-shirt Arthur had gifted her as a gag gift last Christmas, snuggly in between her husband's legs. Arthur delicately threaded his fingers through her hair from scalp to bottom to make sure there were no knots. He knew how much she detested knots. He was so gentle with her. But she was numb to everything. Françoise felt as though she sat on a cloud. A heavy cloud. A cloud ready to burst into a violent thunderstorm that she couldn't control. She could not feel her husband's fingers. Nor could she feel the brush scrape her scalp as it scratched against it. She saw everything clearly. But she could feel everything as clearly.

Arthur tucked some strands of hair behind her ear. He set the brush aside and laid his chin on her shoulder. "You okay, dear?" Françoise slowly nodded. Arthur didn't believe her. She always hid the truth behind a wall of positivity and flirtatious remarks. But this was different. She wasn't smiling. She wasn't commenting perversely on their closeness nor grabbing inappropriately at him. Or making any advances. She was just... There. Quiet. Numb. Violet eyes hollow.

Suddenly a blaring squeal rang out through the room. The baby monitor. Arthur grabbed the device and quieted it down a notch, the constant babble mixed with the occasional comprehensive word not stopping. He carefully moved himself off the bed and left to go check on their child. Before he left he gave his wife a loving peck on the forehead saying, "I'll be back. She probably wants attention."

Françoise watched as he left. She felt so tired so suddenly. Some sort of weight fell on her chest but it did not impact her breathing. Rather it made her eyes heavy. It was like this everyday now. She'd feel drained even if all she did was lay in bed. Which was often nowadays. She would mope mostly. Feel sorry for herself. Blame herself. She didn't feel like doing most things. She even refused to do her makeup, something she enjoyed doing even if she was going to be home all day. Arthur had to coax her out of bed to bathe and eat. He'd have to help her dress sometimes too. Her body not only became tired but also terribly sluggish. Sometimes her limbs would not obey her. She felt like a helpless child. No— a burden. A useless mother who couldn't take care of her own daughter. An awful wife that made her husband do the most basic things for her. She left her daughter's care to her husband. He agreed willingly. But she still felt horrible for pushing all the responsibility onto him.

"Look who wanted to say hi!" Arthur came in with their two year old daughter held to his hip, picking up her little hand and waving it in front of her. The little girl smiled and squealed happily. Françoise managed a small smile of her own. "Mama! Mama!" Her smile fell as her daughter reached out for her. She recoiled into herself. She lifted her knees up to her chest and hugged them, turning her head away to the curtained window. Arthur expected this. Stepping stones, he reminded himself. Don't overwhelm her. "Áine, sweetie, can you tell mummy 'love you'? I think she needs to hear it. Tell mummy you love her, sweetheart." Áine nibbled on her fist instead. Silly girl, he thought. She seems to favor "mama" and "dada" over other words, as well as calling Peter "bubuh" and Alfred "Burga". She knows other words and can form sentences ,and often repeats things others say, but she has her favorites too.

Arthur sat on the corner of the bed. He sat his little girl on his knee and bounced her gently, a faint smile on his face. "Mummy is sad. What should we do to make mummy feel better?" Áine grabbed at the buttons on her father's sleeve. "By Jove I think you're right! She does deserve a big kiss!" Françoise glanced back at the two. Arthur was coaching the two year old into the motions of blowing a kiss, the child repeatedly saying "mwah" as the seconds passed. A soft grin tugged at the Frenchwoman's lips.

Then she frowned. She buried her face in her knees. A hardened sob escaped her throat. The storm cloud burst. Thunder roared in her chest as sob after sob choked her. "Je suis désolé..." She croaked. Her throat felt dry. Lips felt like sandpaper. Her shoulders shuddered as another sob left her lips. "I'm sorry..." Her voice cracked terribly. It hurt him. A weight was lifted off the bed. Footsteps told her he'd left the room. Minutes later his voice came through the baby monitor, saying, "It's okay, Onion. Mummy's just tired. Let's go sleep for now, hm? A pretty girl like you needs her beauty rest for tomorrow." The toddler giggled. Arthur most likely gave her little nose a boop, no doubt about it. She strangely found it humorous, people's noses that is. And her own nose too.

Soon Arthur was back in the room. He'd climbed into bed but he didn't lay down. He sat in front of Françoise. His legs criss crossed instead of drawn to his chest like hers. "It's okay, love. It's okay to cry." He said softly. She sniffled. "My fault." Françoise cried. Arthur took her dangling hand in his. He began to rub his thumb along her knuckles, a gesture she always found oddly soothing. "The doctor said it was hypertension. It isn't your fault."

"I killed our baby." Water began to prickle at the corners of Arthur's eyes. He disregarded it. He needed to stay strong for her. For them. He had to show he had it all together so she could work on picking herself back up without worrying about picking him up in the process. He can break down later in the bath. He can excuse himself to his home office and cry there. He can hide away in the kitchen while she and Áine sleep and sob as loud as he'd like. In this moment, right here right now, he had to be the strong one for her. For the both of them. "You did not kill—"

Françoise picked up her head, face distraught, tears streaming down her face. "WE WERE GOING TO HAVE A SON, ARTHUR! AND I KILLED HIM!" She screamed. Her whole body shook. Her breath hitched. "H-how can you just—just sit here and tell me I didn't. Do you not care? How can you love a murderer!? You can leave and take Áine with you, neither of you should be around a monst—" Arthur cut her off. He sprang up and wrapped her into a tight embrace. Françoise weakly fought against him. Arthur stroked her back. In her ear he whispered calming affirmations to her. Soon she broke down and collapsed into his arms. She kept apologizing and apologizing. Apologizing for something she did not cause. Something she had no control over.

Arthur pulled away. He kept his hands firmly on her shoulders. "Look at me, Franny. Please." She slowly glanced up into those soft eyes that reminded her of peaceful meadows. "This is not your fault." He bluntly said. "You did not kill our child—  _ Our son _ . And yes, I am upset. I'm upset at the universe. I'm upset at myself. I am not upset at you. You are my priority right now. You are so hurt that mere words cannot help you. There is no glue as of now strong enough to fix your mangled heart. But I'll be here for you. Perhaps I can be your glue if need me to. Because I— I lo—  _ I love you _ ." Arthur paused to gulp down a sob threatening his esophagus. He wiped away the fugitive tears leaving his ducts.

"Cry if you need to. Scream at the heavens if you so desire. But please, for the love of all that is good, do not blame yourself. You are not at fault here." Françoise attached herself to her husband, hanging onto him like nothing else mattered in the world. Her nails dug into his back but he didn't care. He rubbed soothing circles into her back. "There there. I've got you, love."

"Take all the time you need."

**Author's Note:**

> I was doing research to both better my knowledge for the future and for another project. It was both on pregnancy and the aftermath of a miscarriage and I just couldn't get what I read off my mind. I needed to vent in some way and here it is. I really like the dynamic of fem!France with England because tall lady with small man makes me happy and laugh, that's why I chose this couple in particular. I was wanting to write a short story that at least included my FrUk fanchild, Áine, and so I took the opportunity and ran with it.  
> I really like how this came out so I'm pretty proud of it. It's slightly different than the angst I usually write. Cried a bit a couple times thinking about what she went through but restrained myself from writing about it. The physical and emotional toll of losing a child before it's born or even after its born.... Ladies, or those who know woman who have gone through this, I'm so sorry.


End file.
